Souta paused at the ending sentence and reread it, more to comfort himself than for any other reason. And their love will live on forever, beyond even the end of time. He had realized by the third paragraph exactly which "legend" that this story best matched to. He tried to remember the names of Kagome's friends in that time. Miroku the lecher, Sango the demon slayer, Shippo the Kitsune, Kirara the kitten/tiger.
Suddenly, it came to him. He wrote down "Shippo the Kitsune" in the margins next to the author's description, and then crossed out the letters- "S-H-I-P, T-H-E, K-I". Po Tsune was left.
He looked up at the painting again, feeling overwhelmed. Kagome had often taken crayons and colored pencils to that world for Shippo to use to draw and color. Had she somehow inspired the person who turned out to be her favorite artist? Their grandfather had boasted that the painting had been passed down in the family for generations(as he always did). He stood up and walked to it, studying it intently.
It was about then that his mother walked in with groceries.
"Mother," he chastised, "don't carry so many groceries all at once. Hand some over to me; I'll help you put them away."
"I'm alright, Souta, but thank you," she responded, moving by him with courtesy. "I see you've been admiring The Heart of the Miko."
Souta froze.
"Is that what this painting is called…" he whispered quietly, mostly to himself.
"I'm not surprised your sister liked that painting so much," his mother said fondly. "It was fate, I think. Everything that happened."
"It was painted for her," Souta realized.
"It certainly seems that way, doesn't it?"
"No… Mother, it was painted for her. Po Tsune painted it for her, or maybe in her honor."
Mrs. Higurashi smiled sadly.
"Souta, I miss Kagome very much, but I don't think we should make up fanciful stories like that about her."
"No, mother- let me show you what I found."
And he did- from the note about the author, to the name, to the obituary speech.
"So Shippo-chan became an artist," she mused. Suddenly, though, she froze.
"The grave stones," she whispered. "I know where they are."